My name is Refiloe. I am thirteen years old. My sister Lesedi is four. My parents passed away last year. Papa went first, three months before Mme.

It all began in February last year, when Papa came back from the mines in Johannesburg. An ambulance dropped him right in front of our home, too ill to walk and talk. The driver of the ambulance spoke to Mme for a long time as the neybars helped carry Papa into the house. He told Mme how difficult it was to find our village because it is tucked away between two hills, and he is not used to driving in areas where there are no road signs. And the roads are very bad. What he didn’t know is that the roads were once horrific. At least now they are wider and that makes it easier for cars, now two cars can stand alongside each other. This means that the road does not get used up too quickly, and on rainy days mud does not accumulate too fast, making them impassible.

I remember that day when a man came from the government offices to talk to all the elders in the village about the plans to improve the roads and install a water pump for our village that we could all use instead of going all the way to the river. Mme was delighted, so was I. We had a water tank that my father bought years ago, when I was seven. But in winter when there are no rains, we use up all the water and have to go to the river. I hate walking to the river in winter, it gets dark very early and the shadows of the hill make it so much colder than it really is. The river is right next to the foot of the hill, where it really freezes.

As I was saying, the ambulance driver complained to Mme. He said he had to stop many times asking people where to find Moosa’s General Dealers, our main store. Apparently that was all my father could tell him because he was very ill and could not talk much. Although I was very sad to see Papa like that, I was relieved that he had come back home. As Mme kept telling us, “It’s much better to die with your family, with love around you and prayers for your future life.” Everyone thought Papa would pass away very soon after he arrived home. Many people now say Mme’s love kept him alive.

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Tell us: Do you think someone’s love can keep a person they care for alive?